Page 69 of Omega’s Forward

21. Brody

The door opens before I find the buzzer.

I had a speech, built it somewhere over the ocean. It was short and calm. All about the kid.

But then the door swings in, his scent rolls out of the hallway, and the speech is simply gone.

Orange peel. Dark honey. It’s been six months since I’ve had it anywhere but memory.

Memory has been selling me a knockoff the whole time. The real thing slides down my spine and grips me.

There’s something new in it, low and warm, wound through every part of him. I know exactly what it is.

It’s the baby, somehow both of us within him. It makes my knees want to buckle.

“Everett.”

There’s my speech.

He stands in the doorway with his chin up. His eyes are bright and fixed on me. My eyes drop to the middle of him before I can stop them.

“You found it,” he says.

“I found it.”

He steps back to let me in. “I’m afraid there’s no lift.”

The stairwell is narrow and it’s full of him. I carry the case so the wheels don’t wake the building, staying half a step behind him the whole way up. He climbs with one hand on the rail. I notice.

His apartment is one big room under old beams. It’s brick, tall windows, the river moving gray past the glass doors at the far end.

It’s warm and it’s quiet and there is not one thing in it that has anything to do with hockey. No photos. No silver and green. I put my case down by the door. I have no idea where I am staying tonight. I haven’t booked a hotel. I didn’t even think that far ahead. All I could think was that I needed to see him.

It’s London. There must be hotels everywhere. I’ll find somewhere.

Unless he offers to have me stay here.

He goes to the kitchen end and flips the switch on an electric kettle.

“Sit down,” he says. “You look dreadful.”

“Long flight.”

“There are hotels between here and Heathrow. You could have slept first.”

“No. I couldn’t.”

He makes coffee with his back to me, slides the mug across, and stays standing on the far side of the counter with his tea.

The counter stays between us. Understood.

“So,” he says. “I guess you want to talk about this.”

A laugh bursts out of me before I have the opportunity to hold it in. I just flew across continents, missing one of the most important games of the season, potentially letting the entire team down.

I guess I do.

He raises an eyebrow.